Castle's in Maine
by htoria
Summary: Oneshots involving Outlaw Queen scenario's swirling around my brain - all prompts welcome!
1. Castle's in Maine

**This is my first shot at writing OUAT, it's been a few years since I've put metaphorical pen to paper so I apologise for any mistakes! This is just a one-shot so far, but I do have some other idea's of possible season 4 scenarios I may write if this is well received. Don't own them, just love them.**

**Takes place 2 weeks after the final. **

Tapping her foot wildly was the only thing she could focus on; the limb had sent her into a trance that was only broken when Mary Margaret finally snapped.

"Will you please stop?!" The princess whined, and though she stopped her foot instantly she still stared at her questioningly. "Thank you." Snow said, releasing a breath she was unaware she had been holding.

"It's been over an hour. I'm going out there." Regina finally said, sighing as she moved off the sofa at the Charming's loft.

"You are not. We've been over this, Regina. You can't go out there." Emma stood up from the dining table.

"Like hell I can't," Regina moved towards the front door, but was instantly blocked by the overly annoying blonde. "Move." She warned.

"No." Emma replied, staring her down. An internal battle began to rage within Regina, and she had to use every ounce of will power she had not to give in and blast Emma straight through the door. It would have been the product of numerous weeks worth of anger and hatred she now felt towards their precious savior for bringing back Marian and ruining Regina's chance of ever having the family she dreamed of. Because she did dream of it, of them specifically. The family she pined for were no longer faceless, (which would have been easier), they were Robin and Roland and Henry. They were her boys and now she'd tasted it she couldn't not have it.

"Regina, Emma's right. You can't go out there. Would you just look outside?" Regina glared over to the window and watched the snow fall heavier by the second. "You'd never make it past Granny's, let alone as far as the forest. It's too dangerous." Mary Margaret calmly met the two women by the door, placing a friendly hand on her step-mother's shoulder. "I know you're worried. We all are."

Regina met Snow's tear filled eyes and felt herself cave. They were both right, of course. It most certainly was a stupid idea to brave this fresh blizzard, but she found she didn't care. It had now been over one hour since Marian had banged on her front door and demanded to know where her husband was.

_"__Why the hell would I know?" She had said, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the dark haired beauty._

_"__Because he told me everything about the two of you," Marian spat. This had caught Regina off guard, and for a split second, her 'Evil Queen' slipped. _

_"__He did?" _

_"__Yes, of course he did. He told me everything this morning and now I can't find him."_

_"__What do you mean, you can't find him?" Regina questioned, a hint of panic in her voice._

_"__He said he was going to clear his head; but that was hours ago. I tried calling him but I don't think I'm using the telephone correctly because all it does is ring. I've asked everyone I could think of but no one has seen him." There was a certain amount of alarm in Marian's voice as she rambled on, and the anger Regina had been met with when she answered the door had turned into sorrow. She took in the broken woman standing on her porch. Dark circles under red eyes, disheveled hair and a scarf thrown loosely around her neck, failing it's attempt to shield her from the bitter cold that had arrived in Storybrooke precisely when she had. Regina had bitched to Tinkerbell that mother nature had obviously taken a disliking to dear sweet Marian in the same way she had. That was crap, of course, but the venting had helped. Looking at her now, Regina could see Marian had taken to Storybrooke just about as well as it had taken to her._

_"__I'm sorry, Marian. I haven't seen him." Regina said, watching the woman's shoulders drop with defeat._

_"__Then... where has he gone?" _

_Her voice sounded so small, Regina was actually about to reach out to her when she was saved, by the ringing of her cell phone. Mumbling a quiet "excuse me," she left Marian alone on the porch. Emma's name flashed on the screen of her phone, and she made a quiet thank you to no one that the savior had actually done just that; saved her from what was sure to be a most awkward conversation. "Miss Swan?"_

_"__Have you seen Hook?" Emma queried, skipping the niceties. Regina frowned. First Robin, now Hook? "Or David?" Emma pressed on._

_"__No ... why?" _

_"__You probably need to get over to Mary Margaret's."_

And so, here she was. The Queen had sent Marian straight back to the other Merry Men, who had all taken residence at Granny's not long after the weather had turned. She had told her Robin was probably fine, that he could handle himself quite easily and that she should go back to take care of Roland. Regina had missed out that Charming and Hook were also missing. The last thing she needed was to take care of her soulmate's wife. Especially now, as an anxiousness she usually only felt with Henry was creeping through her veins.

Emma and Snow relayed the story quickly. Henry had begged David to meet him and Killian in the park for a snow ball fight, but not long after he had arrived, Robin had called him to say he had found something in the forest, not far from Gold's cabin. Despite the boys protests, David had ordered Henry to go straight to the loft and tell his mother and grandmother, and he and Hook had hurried off to the woods.

Regina and Emma had both been ready to go straight out and look for them. Mary Margaret would watch the children and wait to hear any news from the men, but they hadn't even made it to Granny's before the sky darkened and a blizzard had hit the town so hard the power had gone out.

It had now been over one hour and the storm still hadn't let up. All three women sat in silence around the dining table while Henry stared at the snow through the window, rocking a blissfully sleeping Neal gently in his arms. If she had been the type to swoon over decor, Regina would have noted how cosy this little loft looked when it was filled with candlelight. Just as she felt the tight knot in her insides to twist so uncomfortably she mightn't be able to breath, Henry's voice rang through the air. "LOOK!"

The women jumped in unison, and Regina reached the window first. She squinted through the heavy snowfall to see three dark figures moving as quick as the storm would allow across the street, and let out a cry she didn't realise she'd been holding back.

"It's them!" She heard Snow say, her voice full of emotion.

They waited no more than a minute for foot steps and deep voices to meet their ears from the stairwell, and suddenly Charming burst through the door, closely followed by Hook and then lastly, a weary looking Robin.

Regina held back, purposely wrapping her arms around herself to try and stop from throwing her body at his, just as Emma and Snow were doing now. His eyes met hers and he gave her a small, grateful but tired smile. That was all the confirmation she needed that he was okay, and she let her arms drop.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?!" She yelled, looking directly at Robin but asking all three.

"Let me explain," David said, holding Mary Margaret in one hand and the other up in surrender to the Queen before him. She moved her glare slowly, needing Robin to know she wasn't done with him yet. "Robin called me earlier because he thought he'd seen something in the woods."

"What was it?" Emma asked, easing Killian out of the coat he'd been wearing, which was now completely soaked through.

David sighed and looked to the Outlaw, who dropped the bow off his left shoulder (it hadn't gone unnoticed by Regina he was holding it over the wrong arm, but she would get to that later), "I think I found the reason behind this winter," Robin offered.

"Oh my. What was it?" Snow said gently.

"Not what ... who." Killian chimed in.

"_Who_? You think a _person_ is doing this?" Emma asked, bewildered.

"Definitely," her father responded.

"What in god's name makes you think a person could control the weather like this?" Regina said, finally finding her voice.

"Because of what I found," Robin's voice met her ears. "I was down by Gold's cabin when it started to snow quite heavily... I was just about to make my way back to Granny's when I noticed..." his eyes met Davids, followed by Hooks, as though they all knew something and no one could find the words to say it.

"You noticed what? Spit it out!" Regina demanded.

"A castle." He finished, looking at her plainly. "Made entirely of ice." There was a silence that settled on the room as his words sunk in. No one had notice Henry place the baby back into his rocker and move over by Emma. It was Henry's words that broke Regina out of the momentary dumbfounded state she found herself.

"There's a castle in Storybrooke?! Awesome!"

"It is most definitely _not_ awesome." All eyes in the room fell on Regina, and her eyes popped slightly at them. An irritation filled her, because were they all really so stupid she had to explain what this meant? "If someone here has the ability to control the weather it means they're powerful... I've never heard of anybody being able to do that. This is bad."

"Actually, it's worse. I don't think the person here does have the ability to control it," David said, glancing down at his wife and then over to the other men. "We... we tried to get in."

"You did WHAT?!" Mary Margaret and Emma yelled simultaneously, and Snow moved away from David so quickly Regina would have missed it if she hadn't been staring at them. She was currently staring anywhere except to the man standing directly to her right, even though she could feel his eyes on her. She knew if she took one look at him right now she would explode with emotion; though she wasn't sure what emotion that would be, both anger and relief were simmering in equal amounts in her chest. She would either slap him so hard her hand would hurt, or she would jump on him in a way that would be completely inappropriate for people to see. Whichever, Regina wasn't sure.

"Easy now, love. We just wanted to see if we could get a look at who we were dealing with." Killian stared at Emma with eyes he hoped would win her round.

"You could have been killed, David." Snow warned.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but we were all right there, it just seemed like such a waste if we couldn't try."

"Well? Did you?"

"Did we what?" Killian asked, as though he had forgotten Regina was even there.

"Did you find out who it was, you idiot," she snapped.

David sighed heavily and shook his head. "We got as far as the second set of stairs when a shower of icicles came overhead. Whoever it is ... they don't want us to go there."

"A shower of icicles? Are you all okay?!" The amount worry in Snow's voice would usually make Regina heave, but this time she had the exact same feeling rising like bile in her throat as she remembered Robin had been carrying his bow on the wrong arm. She looked at him slowly before glancing down at the weapon she had so often thought of useless. Robin shook his head slightly before finally easing his coat off.

"It's just a scratch," he said, but winced as he moved his right shoulder. Regina noticed the blood stain on his jumper was still wet, which meant it was still bleeding.

"Oh my gosh," Snow breathed. "What happened?" She looked at David in alarm.

"An icicle hit him. We got it out as fast as we could just ran for it," he replied, finally finishing their tale.

Regina quietly took hold of Robin's hand before turning to her step daughter. "Do you have any antiseptic? This needs to be cleaned."

Snow nodded, "top shelf in the bathroom cabinet."

The two moved silently through the loft, leaving the others to dry off and get their heads around the information that had come to light. She would need to tell Gold, Regina thought to herself, that little imp probably know exactly who it was in the ice castle. She would also need to make sure Marian found out her husband was safe and sound, but the selfish part of her heart wasn't overly concerned with doing that right now. The feeling of her hand in his sent shivers through her body as she pulled him. This was the first time they had touched each other since the night Emma had brought his wife back, and Regina had been in complete denial about just how much she had missed him until now. The glimmer of hope that their relationship could continue was quashed in the dead of twilight that very evening, when Robin had come to her and demanded to know if what Marian had told him was true, if in fact his soulmate had been the one to murder his wife. Since then, except for forced pleasantries, the two lovers hadn't spoken a word to each other.

Regina still couldn't look him in the eye as she leaned back on the door to close it shut. She placed the candle she was holding by the sink and moved to open the cabinet.

"Take off your shirt," she said quietly.

"Regina-"

Now was the moment she moved her eyes to his. She breathed out a chuckle, "I'm not trying to seduce you, Robin. If I was it certainly wouldn't be in the Charming's bathroom. I need to clean your wound or it will get infected," she told him simply, sighing when he still didn't budge. She moved towards him and cautiously gripped the hem of his jumper and shirt, noting exactly how close her fingers were to his belt buckle. Her breath hitched, and his hand came down to help her pull off his clothes before finally resting on the edge of the tub. Regina knelt down in front of him and winced as she looked at the deep welt in his skin. The icicle had gone straight through his shoulder.

"It impaled you?" She looked up and found him staring intensely at her face. She held his gaze for a second before bringing up the wipes she had found in Snow's cabinet and pressing one against his skin. Robin gritted his teeth and sucked air through his teeth, gripping her shoulder with his hand out of reflex. "I'm sorry, I need to clean it before I can heal it, you could have an infection," she said, apologetically.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said after a minute of hearing nothing but their breathing.

"I know I don't," she replied, setting down the wipes and dabbing the wound dry with a towel. "Now hold still."

Regina placed her hand so gently on the skin by the wound Robin was sure if he wasn't watching her he wouldn't have felt it. He noted somewhere in the back of his mind that her other hand had cautiously fallen to rest on his thigh, but kept focus on the Queen kneeling before him. He watched as Regina moved her face closer to his chest before puckering her lips and blowing cool air over the bloody hole. He felt a smile come across his lips as his wound closed almost instantly as a swirl of white engulfed the tiny area between her mouth and his shoulder. A smile lit up her face when her eyes eventually met his after he watched her admiring her work. "Looks like I'm finally getting the hang of this whole light magic thing."

He couldn't find any words to say as he looked down at her. She looked truly beautiful in the candle light, wearing a small but genuine smile as she thumbed the fresh skin where there had previously been a deep, bloody hole. She looked proud of herself, and Robin felt his heart tug slightly.

The next move he made was completely subconscious. He didn't even realise he'd done it until she looked up with wide eyes, but even as he caressed his hand against her cheek she leaned into it, closing her eyes as though she was reminding herself to savior the moment. Robin knew this was dangerous, his head was yelling at him to stop and go back to the front room where there were witnesses and he wouldn't be able to touch her.

But his heart ... his heart longed for her. He had missed her, desperately so over the past few weeks and the thing hammering in his chest suddenly won the internal battle he'd been engaged in. He leaned in slowly, waiting for her to pull away if she needed to.

Regina looked into his eyes as he moved closer. She should have been shocked that this married semi-naked man was about to kiss her, but she wasn't. The truth of the matter was that she was glad. She was glad he was finally giving her the attention she had longed for over the past few weeks. The Queen knew he would regret it later; she knew deep down he would still go back to his little family despite his hesitation, but her heart didn't care. It was as though their body's and souls had been clawing their way back to each other after being so cruelly ripped apart and now they were in reach of each other no amount of logic or reason was breaking them in two again.

His lips brushed against hers as softly as a ghost's, and Regina felt her a small groan escape her mouth. She needed him, and let him know it by tightening a grip on his thigh with her hand. His hand moved up into her hair and just as Regina was about to crash her mouth to his properly-

The lights came on. They both froze, and their ears were met by cheers from the room adjacent to them. She heard Robin sigh in frustration, and felt her shoulders sag in defeat. Regina couldn't bring herself to look at him now, and so plastered on her very best 'Evil Queen' mask and stood up briskly. "Try not to get impaled again," she opened the bathroom door with a yank before pausing, looking back over her shoulder and snapping "Don't play the hero again, Robin. You're wife wouldn't like it."

She lifted her chin, just as her mother had taught her to do when her heart was breaking, flicked her hair over her shoulder and looked around at the audience who stared at her. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I think Gold will know more about this new weather man." She heard a floor board creak behind her, and looked back to see Robin leaving the bathroom fully clothed and as good as new, as though nothing had happened.

Regina brought her hands in front of her face with a swoop, and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

**I struggled with the finish of this little story, but hope you enjoy it anyway! If you'd like me to carry on with more oneshots/prompts, review! :) **


	2. You Killed her

**So I decided to continue with the one-shots as people seemed to like what I did! This is set the night of Marian's return. **

**Don't own them - just love them! **

She felt him before she saw him. If she were to guess, Regina would say it was a 'soulmate' thing, as nowadays they would pull themselves to one another even without intention. She heard Snow's voice somewhere in the corner of her mind, "you will always find each other," and had to fight the urge to snort, because she had always hated that stupid little saying of the Charming's. Not that she had been hard to find tonight; her house was a place most anybody would come searching for her. Though tonight, unlike every other time they had happened upon each other, Regina had specifically been waiting for him. He would come to her, she knew it. Not (as some tiny part of her heart hoped) to tell her he was choosing her, but instead to demand answers. The hours had ticked by slower than she would have liked, and with them the panic she had felt at dear Marian's return had slowly subsided and turned into one of acceptance.

She had panicked because Regina knew the perfect little world she had finally gotten was about to come crashing down. She had panicked because she had recognised Marian's face in some far off corner of her mind it had dawned on her that she had been the one to kill Robin's wife. But mostly, she had panicked because she knew she would never be the one to tell him this. Regina watched husband, wife and child in their sweet reunion and felt her heart break; not only for herself, but for the family her actions had torn apart. She had left the diner so quickly she was sure Emma had been the only one to notice her leave. Robin would come after her, though not straight away. He would need time. Time to talk and touch and stare and smell the woman he had long thought dead.

And so here she found herself. Perched on the window sill of her bedroom, hugging her knees to her chest in complete darkness and staring out over the little town she had conjured during her darkest days. The panic now leaving her body was replaced with a knowledge that no matter how much she tried to explain herself, he would always hear Marian's side before her own.

She never heard a peep, and nor should she, he was too good a thief for that. So yes, Regina felt him, before she saw him, the second he creeped into her house because tears filled her eyes and a lump rose in her throat so painful she physically couldn't swallow it down. Now was the time, as he moved about her house downstairs, to decide exactly how she would play this. Should she cry and grovel and show him her sorrow? No, somehow Regina knew even with her heart broken she wouldn't stoop that low. God forbid her mother's ghost still lingered in the house she'd never have a moments piece; forever haunted by Cora's disgust in the weakness that came with loving someone.

He stood by her bed for a good minute before she finally decided to speak.

"You better not have broken my locks getting in here," she said, not bothering to turn and look at him and praying her voice had conviction and didn't sound as battered as she felt.

"Is it true?" Robin however, made no effort to hide the emotion behind his. He had ignored her attempt at their usual banter. That hurt more than Regina could have imagined. "Did you kill her?" He pressed on.

Regina closed her eyes and felt two thick tears fall down her face. She had expected anger, disgust, anything but the raw pain that echoed her ears. He was truly hurt. "Well obviously not considering she's probably dancing in the woods with the Merry Men as we speak." Regina wasn't sure why she was snapping at him, maybe because it was easier to act as though she didn't care, rather than dare show him she cared more than she ever thought possible that she had murdered some faceless peasant decades ago. It was only then did curiosity finally get the better of her and Regina turned her head and looked into his eyes. The image that met her made her heart break all over again. Robin was standing as she had never seen him before; as though he was small. As though he was broken and conflicted and exhausted and confused. Some tiny voice in her mind told her he really should be more elated his wife has returned from the great beyond, but Regina quashed it so quickly she didn't get the chance to feel the glimmer of hope that little voice had brought with it. "Yes. I killed her," was the only thing she could think to say. Tears threatened the rims of her eyes once more, but she refused to let them fall.

"Why?" He asked, shaking his head slightly.

"Will the answer to that question make you feel any differently?" Regina rested her head back against the wall and waited for his answer. There was no point in telling him her side of this little tale because he already knew it. He knew she had slaughtered hundreds of innocent people with no real good reason behind it, so why would her reason for killing his wife be any different? Her theory was proved right as he shook his head.

"No, i suppose not."

"Then why are you here, Robin?"

"I don't know."

Silence pressed in around them as they stared into each other's eyes. It wasn't uncomfortable, but had a presence all of it's own with so much left unsaid. Robin opened his mouth but closed it instantly, obviously rethinking whatever he was about to say. Instead, Regina watched as he shut his eyes, took a deep breath in and suddenly looked as he always did; tall and calm, ready for whatever was about to come his way. She thought he looked as though this conversation, and any other they'd had since arriving in Storybrooke, hadn't happened. He nodded to her, and walked out of the room without a second glance.

Only when she heard the gentle sound of her front door shut did Regina finally let the tears fall and sobs rack over her body.

**Boohoo! Poor Regina, I love her so much but somehow only seem to torture her?! I'll do a more light-hearted chapter next time! Review if you liked! :)**


	3. Author's Note

**Hey guys! I'm just posting a quick Author's Note on here to let you all know I haven't forgotten or abandoned this one-shots fic, i've just been busy focussing on my other story!**

**I've still got plenty of OQ moments swirling round the brain, so will definitely be posting soon! In the mean time, if anyone has any prompts you'd like me to write, just drop me a PM on here and I'd be happy to oblige!**

**Also, check out my other story, 'Would You Change Your Fate?' if you fancy it!**

**:)**

**That's all, folks!  
**

**XX**


	4. The boy and her broach

**I know, I know, I should be updating 'WYCYF' … but this literally wouldn't leave my head.**

**I'm trying out a slightly different writing style, so let me know what you guys think!**

**Set during the missing year.**

* * *

At first, the panic builds slowly.

At first, she simply thinks she's misplaced it. She thinks nothing of the empty space that occupies her jewelry box, and continues dragging the brush through her hair. It's long again now, and as she vainly admires her appearance she realizes that actually, she's missed this part of her nightly routine. She's missed running her fingers through the thick, lustrous waves cascade down her back and fall softly over her shoulders.

It is the first and, along with her beautiful wardrobe, only thing she's missed about this god forsaken place.

Her brow furrows as its absence becomes more obvious; and she suddenly realizes that, no, she could not have simply placed it somewhere else on her dresser, or in her chambers. She could not have done that because since she has been back here, Regina hasn't once touched the thing once.

She looks for it anyway. She looks in the hope that she has absentmindedly moved it whilst rediscovering this new, yet old, routine she performs at night.

But she hasn't. It has gone.

The panic that built slowly at first is now fully fledged in her heart and mind. It runs through her veins as easily as her blood; as though it is now a part of her that will not leave.

She tears her chambers apart. The drawers fly from her dresser and her regal gowns fall from their home in the wardrobe; they lie forgotten on the floor.

The panic turns to anger.

Someone has taken it.

The obvious fact that nothing else is missing, that all the other much more impressive pieces of jewelry she owns lie untouched, goes out of her head without a second thought.

She fall back on her bed; now ripped of it's heavy throws and silk sheets. They lie in a mess on the floor at her feet, and had she not been so overcome with emotion she would have noted how ridiculous it was to have looked in the bed anyway.

Why on earth would it be there?

Someone has definitely taken it.

He is the first person that comes to mind. The _Thief_.

Her lip trembles with anger, despite a small voice at the back of her mind reasoning that, he would most definitely not have taken such a precious object. That if he really is the thief legend would have her believe, he would have cleaned the castle of its magnificent ornaments and portraits weeks ago. If he really is the criminal she had once hunted for, he would have taken much more then just this.

It is by far the ugliest piece that sits in her jewelry box. The one thing in there that she most definitely wouldn't be caught dead wearing. It also happens to be the only thing she has left in this castle that actually means anything to her.

So when she sees it's missing, when she sees someone has quite clearly targeted it for the taking; Regina sees red.

"Where is it?!" She demands as she enters the great hall.

The kingdom, or what's left of it anyway, are sitting to eat their supper, and she is fully aware she's making a scene.

She doesn't care.

"Where's what?" He asks lazily, sighing. As though he really doesn't have the energy for yet another fight with her.

Dark eyes meet blue as she stands over him, trying to intimidate with her very best 'Evil Queen' glare. The problem she faces with this particular individual is that he never does feel the threat that others would, should she choose to look at them like this.

He looks, instead, slightly amused. And it drives her crazy.

"Don't play innocent with me, you obnoxious son-of-bitch. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Where. Is. It?"

"I'm afraid I haven't a clue what you're on about, your majesty. Although, I do admit the fact you feel me important enough to know anything about you is rather flattering."

She knows he sees the outrage on her face, and he stands from his seat before she can completely blow her top. He's the one standing over her now. Nose inches from hers, and she narrows her eyes as her breathing becomes erratic.

"I had a broach on my dresser that's miraculously disappeared! You expect me to believe that you and none of your fellow ..." she looks dirtily at the Merry Men sitting around them, "... _pilferers_ had nothing to do with it?!"

Robin looks at the men curiously. They stay silent. The whole room barely breathes; waiting for Regina to explode, or kill. Or both.

"Men? Have any of you braved stealing from the Queen's chambers?"

More silence.

"Well, your highness, I think you have your answer."

Her fingers curl, quite suddenly, around his shirt and yank him down towards her. Her eyes are full of tears now; tears that give her away, that tell him she really does care about this particular item, that tell him she isn't getting angry just for the sake of it, and suddenly she registers the ... concern ... that flashes across his face.

"If I find out any one of your Merry Men have pawed they're way through my things ... I will kill you."

* * *

She doesn't blink as she talks, through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Her grip releases him back with a force stronger than he thinks she has, and she leaves the room as grandly as she entered.

His eyes follow her, they can't seem to help it. They've been staring at her quite a bit just recently, he realizes. Talk and relief fill the room once more, but he stays exactly where she'd pushed him, looking back at the doors as though he can still see her there.

There is a large part of him that longs to chase her. It wrestles with another, more sensible part of his being that instructs him to sit back down and finish his meal, that his words will do nothing to comfort her right now. This is the part he listens to.

She is still on his mind later, as he lays his son to rest in a bed far too big for a child his size. The regal ignorance of Royals still makes him uncomfortable, and he hopes everyday that Roland will not become accustomed to this new, grander way of living.

"Papa?" His voice is sleepy, and his little mouth yawns. "Why was the Queen mad at supper?"

He sighs. It seems he isn't the only Hood with a fascination for Her Majesty. The major difference between the two of them being she will actually tolerate Roland.

"I believe she has misplaced something very dear to her."

"Her broach?"

He stares at the boy in surprise, and rubs his hand gently along his son's full tummy. "How do you know about the broach, Roland?"

The boy's lip wobbles, and a sudden understanding washes over him. He closes his eyes, scolding his parenting skills and has to swallow the urge to yell.

"I didn't think she wanted it. I've never seen her wear it. I just wanted to pin it to my hood like Prince David's. I'm sorry, papa."

The tears that leak from his son's eyes break his heart, and he doesn't yet know how to explain to the child that he should not have taken things that don't belong to him without sounding like a hypocrite.

"Where is it, Roland?"

Small hands reach under the large, overstuffed pillow and pull out an old, battered looking broach. He guesses its worn appearance is the exact reason she wants it back so much. It clearly holds great value to her. He wraps his hand over his sons and leans in to touch their foreheads gently.

"You shouldn't have taken this without Regina's permission, Roland. Why did you want to be like the Prince?"

He is slightly afraid of the answer, and his ego is definitely bruised from his son's admiration for someone other than himself.

"We live in a castle like they do now."

He feels like a failure now. He has failed his son and his dead wife by not teaching the simple the difference between right and wrong. But things are never simple, he reasons. If they were, he wouldn't be the man he is.

"That doesn't mean we always will, my boy. It doesn't mean we're royals."

Sniffles and nods meet his words.

"Tomorrow you will apologise to her."

More nods, and then nothing more is said. He tucks the child in and whispers goodnight, leaving the room with a heavy heart, and makes his way, duty bound, to her chambers.

Her eyes are surprised to see him when she finally opens the door.

"It appears I have an apology to make," he sighs, holding up the broach.

The surprise is replaced quickly with relief, and then just a rapidly, anger. She snatches it from his grasp and wraps a small hand around his throat, digging her nails into his skin.

"I _knew_ you had it." She spits her words, glaring into his eyes and drawing his face closer to hers.

Air leaves his lungs quicker than he anticipates. She really is stronger than she looks without even using magic.

"My son-" he manages to choke out, and her fingers release their hold immediately.

Regina steps backwards into her chambers, and he follows her, uninvited, closing the door behind him. His neck feels bruised, and his lungs long for a gulp of air. But he is too stubborn to give her the satisfaction.

"Roland took it?"

"I'm sorry. He is too ... I realise this doesn't excuse his behavior but I believe he thought he was a prince now we live in the castle. He said you never wear it."

She looks down at the pin in her hand, gently stroking it's face with her thumb. "I don't." Her words sound small.

She looks small, too, he decides. She stands readied for sleep, in a long flowing black gown that doesn't match the angular lines or overdone detail of her other outfits. Her hair falls loosely down her back, and her face is rid of the heavy makeup it usually holds.

She looks small and young, void of the stature she usually forces down onlookers throats. He thinks he has never seen her look more beautiful.

"May I ask who it belonged to?" He asks it cautiously, all too aware that the question could see him thrown back with magic by the walls she defends her heart with.

"It belonged to a man I murdered."

Her words are grave, and filled with a regret she has never shown him before. They give him yet another reason to believe she has not got the evil soul legend would have him believe. Her lips press together tightly, as though she is desperately trying to hold her emotions in check. She swallows the tears before they take control though, and her strength is proved once more.

She meets his eyes, and they're nowhere near as hollow as they had been earlier that evening. "It belonged to my father."

"I'm sorry." And he truly means it.

* * *

In an instance, her heart rules her feet, and she walks towards him without thinking. When she stops, her body is inches from his, and even though she is the Evil Queen, even though she has slaughtered hundreds and could murder him with the mere twist of her wrist, Robin doesn't move.

He looks down at her with sympathy and, dare she think it, understanding. Her eyes only move from his when she presses the broach back into his palm before they fall on the ink etched in on his wrist.

It is the first time she's let her eyes drink it in up close, and she can't help but run her fingers along it gently. The pattern mocks her. It stands out, black and angry against his skin and she hates it. She hates the tattoo for taking him away from her. Not that he has ever been hers; but now she can never let him get close like she thinks he wants. She is a villain. She doesn't get a happy ending, so if she lets him get close, if she listens to the voice in her head screaming to follow her heart, she knows fate will intervene. Fate will kill him for daring to fall for the Evil Queen. She will kill him, and that ... that she cannot bare.

His other hand pulls her from her thoughts. It reaches slowly to hold her and suddenly, Regina remembers her place. She steps back, leaving her prized broach in his possession.

"Tell Roland he can keep it. At least while you live here."

He shakes his head, looking alarmed that she should even suggest such a thing. "Regina, I can't-"

"He's four years old, Robin. And he's living in a castle. Let him have his imagination for a little while. He'll keep it safe for me until you leave."

It hurts; the idea of giving it up.

But when she next sees the little boy, showing it off proud as punch to Snow White and her Prince Charming, she knows in her heart ... it was worth it.


	5. The Sheriff

Her fingers feel sore from the weight as her shoulders tense and she hurries back to the car. She fumbles for her car keys, feeling the sharp niggle in her back get worse as her hands colour red, raw from the stretch of the grocery bags plastic handle as they dig, indenting into her fingers, and she curses herself. Why, oh why, didn't she just get a trolley instead of thinking she could carry all this with her own two arms?

The boot springs open, and her muscles almost sigh from relief as Regina drops the bags to its floor in a heap. The tops of her arms throb as she reaches up to the trunk's door and slams it shut, then checking her watch.

Shit. 12:32pm. She's already late.

She grabs her cell phone after climbing in the front of the car and reaching back for the seatbelt. No cell reception. Perfect. She groans out in frustration through gritted teeth, hating the silly old man in front of her at check out who couldn't decide whether to pay cash or card. That debate had gone on for a good ten minutes, and now, because of it, Regina wouldn't be there to meet Henry like she promised.

She twists the key in the ignition quickly. The noise that meets her ears makes her wince, and her mood turns ever more sour. She twists, again and again before yelling out and hitting the steering wheel hard enough for her hands to sting.

And now her car wouldn't start. Perfect.

Regina feels her face pull when she gets out and opens the bonnet. Like she actually knows how on earth to fix an engine, or ... whatever it is that seems to be the problem. She's just about to completely lose her rag when a hand catches her shoulder. The winter sun blinds her vision, just for a moment as she turns to meet the stranger, and she holds up her arm to get a better look.

He is hansom, no denying that. And tall too; taller than he would usually appear to her, but this morning when the frost and ice on the ground had met her eyes, she'd opted against her favored six inch heel for a more practical flat boot. He smiles warmly at her before pointing down at the engine, and then back at himself. She follows his gaze, and then watches him move cautiously to the car.

A glimmer of hope ignites in her heart; perhaps this rescuer from the middle of the parking lot could help her get to Henry after all. He bends over the bonnet, frowning down and pulling at random things she has no idea what the use of is as he attempts to help fix it. The spark of hope dies in an instant when he sighs heavily and grimaces over at her, shaking his head.

"Thanks anyway," she says heavily, rubbing her temples in circular motions, trying to avoid the stress headache about to come on. He smiles, looking a little sad he couldn't be of more help, and then turns to walk away. "Hey, what's your name?" She calls, grabbing his elbow and turning him back to face her.

His mouth opens to reply before her stops himself, bringing his hand to his mouth and frowning with closed eyes. Regina doesn't hide the confusion on her face as she moves closer to him, trying to look for what she thinks she saw when he'd gone to try and talk. "Do you ... do you not have a tongue?"

His head shakes, and for an awful second, Regina hopes she isn't the person who took it once upon a time. Although ... that really doesn't sound like her style, but who knows what untold tortures she brought down on people way back when?

The man's eyes brighten suddenly, as though an idea has popped into his head, and he pulls his cell phone out of his leather jacket, moving to type a text and shows her the screen.

_Rumplestiltskin took it_

She rolls her eyes; of course he did. Curiosity gets the better of her, and she forgets about the broken engine, the late lunch, and the ever melting ice cream in the trunk of her car. She waves her hand in front of his mouth, and a cloud of purple smoke engulfs the both of them momentarily.

"Why'd he take it?" She asks, semi amused.

The man ignores her question, wide eyed and awestruck as his hand meets his mouth and he moves his jaw from side to side. "You .." he starts, and then stops, because it's clear the sound of his own voice has startled him. Regina can't help the small smile that moves across her mouth.

"Thank you ... thank you so much!" He eventually says with one of the most genuine, relieved smiles she's seen. His voice, she's surprised to note, has an accent, and the dull ache that resides in her heart nowadays throbs stronger for a second. The accent that meets her ears is almost exactly like _his_.

"It's the least I could do," she says, and is about to add 'for my knight in shining armor', but the words sound so ridiculous, given where they're all from, so instead she opts for, "for the guy who tried to help." She smiles, nodding down at the engine, and his gaze follows her own.

"Right ... the car. I'm pretty sure your batteries dead, but I don't have any cables to jump start you."

"It's fine. Any chance I could borrow that phone though? I'm meeting my son and I'm already late."

He hands it over without question, but her shoulders sag when she sees; he has no reception either. God dammit. Why did she create a town in the middle of nowhere?! The sigh that escapes her is heavy, loaded with a frustration she doesn't bother to mask from the stranger.

"I can give you a ride if you'd like?"

His offer surprises her; clearly, this man has no idea who she is. Or was ... back in the Enchanted Forest. But, she needs to get back to town and his car seems as good a way as any, so she kindly accepts with a mental note to call the garage when they reach the diner.

As they drive, he talks her ear off, and the obvious excitement he shows for the ability to converse once more is infectious. She learns his name is Keith, that he works shifts at the Rabbit Hole, and that Rumple took his tongue when he hit on Belle without realizing who she was. She grimaces at the thought, trust that stupid Imp to take the poor mans tongue for making a genuine mistake; but then, who is she to judge really?

His accent doesn't once dim the sadness in her heart; on the contrary, it probably fuels it. They must be from the same part of the kingdom, she thinks, but is too afraid to ask Keith if he knows about the famous - infamous? - Prince of Thieves.

Her phone buzzes in her hand so suddenly she jumps. They've driven so far cell reception has come back, and there is a text from Henry waiting for her.

_I'm sorry, can't meet you for lunch, Leroy is taking me fishing again. I'll come home for dinner tonight though, see you at 6._

The words make her heart sink.

"Everything okay?" He asks, nodding down at the phone as her disappointment at the message is clearly not being hidden.

"Yes. Everything's fine, it just ... it seems my son had a better offer for lunch. If you could just drop me at the garage instead? That would be perfect."

"Your son's stood you up? Someone needs to teach him proper dating etiquette," he chuckles, and she can't help but smile back. She likes this man, she realizes, and it surprises her. He's rough round the edges, his hair is too long for her liking, and the leather of his jacket is worn. There's a slight air of stale alcohol about him, but it isn't over powering, certainly not completely off putting, and he_ does_ work in a dingy bar, she reasons.

"Yes well, he's twelve. I'll let him off."

"Well I've never been one to see a damsel in distress, would it be alright if I took you for lunch instead?"

She cocks an eyebrow. "Never once in my lifetime have I been referred to as a damsel in distress."

He barks out a laugh, and that hurts, because it's so similar to his she has to close her eyes and tell herself off. _He_ is not here.

"Alright, alright. Humor me? I'm trying to think of any way I can to properly thank you," he catches her eye as the round the corner to Main Street. "Besides, I haven't eaten anything that wasn't liquidated in about a year!"

She laughs, shaking her head at the image. Her heart is saying no, her mind is saying yes, and the internal battle those two sides often have within her begins to rage once more. It's just lunch, what can honestly go wrong? Last time her heart and her head went to war her heart won out, and now she was ... heartbroken and alone and miserable. So perhaps her head was the way to go this time. The indecisiveness must be evident on her face, because he goes on to say, "come on ... even the Queen has to eat."

"So you do know who I am," she replies.

"Of course I do."

Her head wins, because not many people would be so kind when they know who she is. "Okay ... sure, I'd like that."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Regina finds herself propped up on her favorite bar stool at Granny's, staring down at the menu and biting the inside of her cheek. This wasn't a good idea. She can feel the other diner's eyes on them, and instantly, she knows they think this is an actual date. Which, of course, it is not; but it doesn't stop the uneasiness settling in her stomach as Ruby slides two iced teas in front of them _very_ curiously, before taking their food orders and rushing off to gossip with the other waitress.

"So ... do you always get an audience when you dine?" He asks.

"That depends on what scandal I'm in the middle of. You get used to it," she shrugs, sipping her tea.

His eyebrows raise. "That is certainly no way to treat their Queen."

Her eyes lock with his, and she can't stop one eyebrow from arching in disdain. "I'm not their Queen, not anymore, and not here. Here I'm just Regina."

"Well Just Regina, I for one cannot thank you enough for today. Here's to you, and hopefully, dining in peace in the future." He raises his glass politely, clinking it against her own with a warm smile that she can't help but return.

His expression changes quickly as his eyes shift from her's to the door behind her. His face darkens as he sets his tea back down on the counter, and she frowns as she turns her body to see what he is staring at.

Her chest contracts, and pain and nerves and love and sorrow all flood her emotions. Robin and Marian are making their way up the path to Granny's, lost in deep conversation, and she longs to turn away from them, to stop staring and wishing the hand in his was hers, and not his wife's. But she can't, and her eyes stay glued to the couple as the door pulls open.

Robin's eyes meet hers first, and he slows. When they meet the man sitting on her left, he stops in his tracks. Marian's expression turns just as dark, but Regina can't tell if that's for Keith or for her, and the pretty brunette steps back slightly, to stand behind her husband. Regina finds her earlier question answered; Keith obviously does know Robin, and from the way the atmosphere is now thick as steel, it's not in a favorable capacity.

"Well, well, well," Keith says, sneering, and the kind man she had been talking to thirty seconds previously has completely disappeared from his features. "If it isn't the happy couple."

Regina notes the vein in Robin's neck pulse, but he doesn't say a word, and instead just glares from across the diner. If they didn't have an audience before, they most certainly do now.

"I wasn't aware the second curse brought all the commoners with it."

Ruby chooses that moment to swan over, for once completely oblivious to the situation around her, and places down the food Regina and Keith had just ordered.

She winces as Robin's eyes fall on the two plates, the two drinks, and the fact that they're sitting next to each other, and he comes to realise that the two of them are here together. Not in that way, this is not a date, but he doesn't know that. A hurt filled expression washes over him as his eyes lock with her own, and it's one that Regina knows she is returning.

"You'll have to forgive me, Marian, I haven't had chance to tell you how wonderful it is you're alive and well." Keith says into the silence.

"Don't you talk to me, Sheriff." The wife spits, and Regina looses the bottom to her stomach.

The Sheriff?

Keith is the Sheriff of Nottingham?

He laughs, a cold, heartless laugh that makes her blood run cold. "You ought to be careful, marrying the thief has turned your manners sour." Robin's jaw clenches, and he steps closer to the bar as Keith stands up. "Now, now, Locksley. Don't cause a scene. Regina and I were just about to enjoy-"

He never gets to finish his sentence. Robin hits him hard, square in the jaw and it sends the Sheriff flying onto his back.

"ROBIN!" Marian yells at the exact moment Regina does too. She stands up from the bar stool and steps back as Robin crouches over the man, bloodying his face more with each punch.

"ROBIN! Stop it!" Marian yells again, and Regina catches the outrage in her face and knows she has never seen this side of her husband. Thankfully, Regina has.

She rushes forward and catches Robin's arm as he swings it back to hurl another blow. He stops and turns back to face her, still crouching down over Keith's bloodied, unconscious form. The anger on his face is murderous, but it doesn't scare her off. She locks her eyes with his and shakes her head lightly, silently telling him now is the time to stop.

His chest heaves in and out as he stumbles to a stand; she doesn't once let his arm drop from her grasp. The skin on his knuckles is raw and cut to ribbons, his hands are covered in blood and for a moment, not one person in Granny's dares to move.

He leaves without word and slams the door shut behind him. Granny and Ruby quickly move to help Keith, and Marian, after a confused glare in Regina's direction, follows Robin out the diner.

She stays to help heal his wounds. And pay for the food. The stress of the afternoon catches up with her as she makes her way home, and Regina subconsciously decides to head over to the docks. She doesn't care if he is fishing; she wants nothing more then to see her son.

* * *

She hadn't planned on finding him. But that's exactly what happens as Regina strolls through the park, not really aware of her pace or direction. She had been planning to surprise Henry at the docks, so why on earth her feet have chosen to get there via the park is a reason completely unknown to her. But alas, here she is, and she doesn't turn back when her eyes fall on him.

He is sitting on a bench by the lake, rubbing the back of his neck with blood covered hands while his elbows rest on his thighs.

He looks exhausted.

Her feet head towards him before her mind can tell her to walk in the other direction, and before she knows it, she's sitting next to him. Her teeth find the inside of her cheek and nibble nervously at the gum. She stays completely silent for a moment, leaning forward to curl her fingers around the seat of the bench. They are so close her fingers are a hairs breadth away from his leg, but not once do they touch.

"Are you alright?" She asks eventually, after his hands leave his neck and his fingers lace together. He looks out at the lake as she down at her feet.

"No. I'm not alright." She chances a glance in his direction. Robin's eyes are weary, full of stress and turmoil, and she has to fight the urge to reach out and smooth the worry lines of his face with her fingers. A ghost of an unusual sneer meets her eyes as he huffs out something she thinks is meant to be a laugh, but his face turns dark once more, and his eyes come to rest on the cut up skin of his knuckles. "That man makes my blood boil. He always has."

Silence falls on them. It's comfortable, and nice, she thinks, to be sitting there with him, so close she can smell his skin and feel his heat. It's nice to be so content, looking out at the beautiful lake; it's nearly frozen over now, but somehow the frost on the ground and the sight of their breaths makes the scene more perfect.

But the silence is loaded too. Heavy with unsaid words and unexplored feelings. She thinks he was jealous, and the shocked expression on his wife's face had told her that Robin had never actually snapped when it came to the Sheriff, no matter how awful he had been to them.

"Were you really there with him?" He asks quietly, not meeting her gaze. Frustration floods her veins because he won't look in her eyes and pour his heart out; not like she wants him to.

"And what if I was?" His blue eyes meet her dark, full of sorrow and loss and love. "I didn't know it was him." She says very quietly, feeling tears sting her eyes, and she presses her lips together to stop them from wobbling. "I never would have-"

"Why should it matter if you knew him or not? I shouldn't have cared, whoever it was."

"But you did."

"But I did. And that ... that is a problem I've been denying from the second Marian returned."

She chooses now to take one of his hands in hers, never once letting her eyes leave his. "I love you. I don't think I'll ever not love you. But it's not fair for you to expect me not to move on with my life when you chose her."

"Is that what you were doing? Moving on?"

Their words aren't heated, they're tired and quiet, full of sorrow and longing.

"Of course not." The same comfortable yet loaded silence falls on them one more for a few minutes before Regina asks the question that's been sitting on the tip of her tongue since she sat down. "Where's Marian?"

"She went back to camp. She said she'd never seen me lose my temper like that before. I think it frightened her."

Regina's eyes drink him in. He had told her on more than one occasion that he had turned down a dark path when Marian had died, that the kind, carefree man he had once been turned into one full of regret and rage. She, Regina, had seen Robin lose his temper like that once before, in the Enchanted Forest when bandits had ransacked the village they were staying in when searching for Zelena. One of them had grabbed Roland, and Robin had completely lost it before piercing an arrow through the man's heart without hesitation.

Marian has clearly never seen that side of her husband before, but it's one of the things she loves most about him. The different shades of light and dark that colour his personality in the same way hers do. She has seen his dark side, and she is not afraid.

"She knows you-" she starts to say.

"No she doesn't. Not anymore. I don't think she likes the person I've become."

"She'll learn to."

"And if she doesn't?"

"If she doesn't then ... it's not on you. If it doesn't work out, then at least you can say you tried."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice is berating her for actually offering relationship advice to the man she's in love with for his marriage to a woman she nearly murdered. But he looks troubled and heartbroken, and even though Regina knows of his dark side, knows that he isn't above killing a man, she also knows he isn't comfortable with it. He isn't at one or at peace with who he becomes when the rage takes over; she knows sometimes he doesn't like the person he's become either. And it's that understanding, that empathy that makes her talk to him as such.

"I miss you," he says sadly.

And she misses him too. Desperately, so she nods and gives his hand a squeeze. "I'm right here."

"Mom!" Henry's voice pulls them from their deep conversation. She smiles, letting go of Robin's hand and getting up off the bench as her son hurries towards them. "You should have seen the fish I caught! It was huge! Leroy made me throw it back, but I got a picture, do you want to see?"

She grins and nods, and as Henry pulls out his cell phone, Regina glances back, feeling her heart sink at the now empty space on the bench.


	6. Dance With Me

Regina has always hated royal balls.

The crowds of people she doesn't know or like, the mounds of food that won't get eaten, guests forcing pleasantries down her throat that nearly choke her. She can't help but judge the ball gowns worn by the women that attend; gowns that don't fit right because they haven't been tailored properly, or they've been hand-me-downs from another member of family - she does _know_ that the majority of people can't afford to showcase true regality through their wardrobe, but honestly, would it kill them to at least wear dresses that enhance them in the right way? The music grates on her eardrums; happy, upbeat tunes that, as far as she is concerned, have absolutely no place in her palace ballroom.

But Snow White had insisted on this god forsaken affair, and as usual, the sickly sweet princess had gotten what she wanted. _It will boost moral_, she had assured the council when suggesting the royal ball to begin with, _I think people will want to know about the pregnancy_, she had pressed on. Grumpy, Granny, Ruby and Belle had exchanged skeptical looks, but none of them had voiced their true opinions. Cowards. Regina had scoffed and batted the idea down almost the second it had left dear Snow's lips, but of course, her stupid Prince Charming had agreed with his wife. The thief, interestingly enough, had stayed very quiet on the matter.

And so here she is; sitting on the top table of a room filled with a kingdom she detests, throwing back wine like it's drying up, and desperately trying to ignore the dull ache in her heart that simply will not quit. She is dressed to the nines in a raven velvet gown that hugs her curves and scoops low at the neck, splits alarmingly high up her leg and trails the floor behind her as she walks. It's strapless, and the sparkling jewels she wears around her neck sit in the cleavage of the sweetheart neckline that her bodice pushes up. She wears her long silky locks loose for a change tonight, the waves in each strand cascading down her back in a way that shines even in the dull candlelight of the ballroom. She has painted her face to cover the dark circles that reside under her eyes nowadays, has traced their rims with the blackest of black liners that illuminate the hazels flecks in the windows to her soul. Her lips are dark; a deep, matte burgundy that makes them look fuller somehow. She looks every _inch_ the Queen she is, mostly definitely the fairest in the room, and she doesn't believe its arrogant to think that.

The room buzzes with conversation, with laughter and music and dancing, with the smiles of those truly _happy_. And it makes Regina sick, makes her seethe from her seat overlooking the room. She still sits above them all, separate and segregated from the kingdom in a way Snow White never will be. Even now, after the feast has been devoured and the celebrations draw on with no end in sight, the Princess mingles with the commoners she has invited, smiling lovingly and listening intently as she makes the rounds with Charming. Regina sits in silence all by herself, glaring down at the festivities from her throne with a mission to get as absolutely inebriated as she can, hating the fact that spending years in a cold, loveless marriage taught her to hold her liquor so well, because this mission is proving much more difficult than it should be.

She feels the bitterness crawl across her skin and creep through her veins, feels the darkness threaten to overtake her heart once more and tonight, for some reason, even the idea of destroying Zelena isn't thrilling her. Tonight she misses Henry so desperately it's almost impossible to breathe. It's no one's fault, Snow wouldn't have known that this particular date holds a massive significance for Regina, but she blames the preppy brunette anyway, (it's always been easier to blame Snow White than admit to herself the only reason she's in whatever situation she's in, she only has _herself _to scold).

Today marks twelve years since the day she adopted her child, and the awful fact that her son no longer remembers the way she raised him, the way she cherished and provided for him eats away at her, darkening her mood to the point she knows she really should remove herself from the ballroom, lest she commit murder for a careless comment from a drunken dwarf. Or string up this fucking composer, for cramming this _incessant_ music down her throat, by the wrists and slashing his skin until he begs for death.

Her eyes graze the room. Belle is surprisingly chipper for a woman whose boyfriend is being held captive, being twirled around the floor by Doc and laughing at his pathetic, absolutely not funny, jokes. Snow and David are also dancing, lost in each other's eyes wearing smiles they only reserve for the other. She can see Ruby over by the door, a devilish grin plasters her face as Dr Wh- _Viktor_ whispers suggestively into her ear - when did he show up, she wonders before moving past them, because the fact that even the goddamn wolf seems happier than she is sets her teeth on edge and drags her mood down further. Granny and the dwarves sit with the Merry Men, all still surrounding the only table left with food still proudly on display. They are roaring with laughter, slugging down pitchers of ale and throwing hearty banter back and forth in a way that causes Regina to roll her eyes. The thief is there, and it annoys her that even a royal ball doesn't seem to get him to change out of that stupid hood, makes her want to walk right over and snatch it from his back. Let him see how it feels to get stolen from, for a change. Honestly, who turns up to a party at a palace without so much as a clean pair of boots? Useless man, she thinks, sucking her teeth and pouring herself yet another goblet of wine. The little one is there too; the boy who floods her mind with memories of Henry and makes her drown in a sorrow that she longs will hurry up and finally bring with it the sweet release of death. He has taken to following her around like a little puppy since she gave him the stuffed monkey, and it annoys her, because she can't simply turn around and yell in his face like she wants. Those dark eyes and deep dimples do not allow her to do anything but smile in amusement and entertain his imagination; and she does find it rather funny that he always seems to forget to tell his father where he's going whenever they spend time together. There have now been countless times the thief has been found turning every room in the castle on its head, looking for his sneaky son, and the image of him flustered and unimpressed has her biting the inside of his cheek. He may be a complete asshole, but he sure is fun to wind up.

Roland sits on his father's lap, lulling his head on Robin Hood's chest, quite clearly trying his hardest to fight fatigue and not miss a second of his first ever official royal ball. More than once, she almost leaves her seat to offer to take the child to bed, to give the Prince of Thieves time to enjoy to the festivities, but the petty, childish side of her heart refuses to let her do anything helpful for this man, and so she just sits and watches them, half despising their happiness, half longing to be involved with it all.

She throws back more wine and takes a deep breath. She really will murder this composer if any more of these songs are so chirpy. The orchestra is making her ears bleed; its too uplifting, too high pitched, and she sits back in her throne, crosses her arms and _sulks_. She really should go to bed, remove herself from the temptation light the room on fire, but it's bad etiquette for the Queen to abandon a ball, and even she won't let standards slip that low. She is so engrossed with everyone else's happiness, she almost misses the hand that opens in front of her face.

"Regina, would you care to dance?"

She cocks an eyebrow up at this man, this prince who has so rudely interrupted her sour mood, purses her lips and answers plainly. "No."

David sighs heavily and lets his hand drop. She watches him look away, and follows his eyes to Snow, who looks disheartened. Regina nearly snorts, of course he had been _made _to ask her to dance. No one would dare ask of their own accord. David stalks off, not bothering to try harder to twirl the hostess around the floor, and as she watches him go back to envelope his arms around his wife across the room, more sadness hits her heart. _They_ have lost a child and a grandchild, _they_ have been forced to leave their home and their livelihoods behind in a realm they have no hope of getting back to. _They_ are the ones faced with rebuilding a kingdom currently on its knees at the hands of some malevolent, envious bitch who's tripping on her power high.

And yet, the smiles on their faces are nothing if not genuine. **_They _**are happy, and it only makes her feel more bitter.

The night wears on, and the party simmers down, and Regina watches as every last soul stumbles drunkenly away, back to whatever hole they crawled out of. She closes her eyes, resting her chin heavily on the hand that sits on the arm of her throne, lost in her own melancholy and quite content with the idea of staying that way. Granny is the last to leave. The woman begins to potter around, clearing the top table of its abandoned wine goblets and left over dishes, shimmying the heavy dining chairs back under the glossy tabletop, being careful for the arms not to mark the carvings that run along the benches edge. She says nothing as she works, humming quietly to herself; but unfortunately for this woman, its the same fucking song the orchestra was playing and in the end, she can't take it.

"_Leave_, wolf!" She snaps, not meeting the aging woman's eyes. Granny halts, and then sighs, but leaves without a fight.

Regina feels her eyes close gently as the heavy doors of the ballroom close with an echo. Finally, she is alone, finally, she can take off this mask of disdain and instead wear the expression she's wanted to wear all night. Finally, she can let her already broken heart break again and no one will know. A lone tear slips from the corner of her eye, gliding softly down her cheek and falling into the fingers that still rest against her face. The room is now so quiet it's almost eery. Dark too, the majority of the candelabra's have long since burned out, and only a few dust the room with a dull orange glow that makes her eyes strain along the vastness of the hall.

Ironically enough, it's only now she's alone does she actually *miss* the music that's been making her skin itch with frustration all evening. At least the dulcet tones of each instrument were enough to drown out the voices of self loathing that scream in her head. Now she is left alone with her thoughts and the silence that presses in around her body is almost too much to bare. In an instant, she leaves her throne, disappointed in the lack of dizzy, alcohol-infused light headedness that should be making her sway on her feet as she walks. Her dress glides behind her as she makes her way to the abandoned instruments sitting just underneath the large stain glass window that used to mock her with an image of her dearly departed husband and the wife he actually loved, (she had smashed that into thousands of pieces the day she sent the Huntsman after Snow.) Now, however, as moonlight shines through the mosaic, tinted glass, the image of a magnificent black stallion rearing on hind legs inside a cluster of deep, violet colours, burns into her retinas; cruelly reminding her of the naive assumption that crushing the heart of her beloved Rocinante would bring her everything she desired.

She looks away from the horse, the hole in her heart growing evermore, and sways her hand softly over worn musical contraptions that currently lie noiseless on their home of the small raised platform the orchestra usually sits at. The soft of lilac glow of magic leaves her palm, sailing over each instrument, making them come alive before her eyes. A small, sad smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as the keys of the grand piano start playing softly under the influence of her incantation, and it's only when she drags her other hand through the air, inviting the cello's and violins to join in, does Regina let go of a sigh she didn't know she'd been holding onto. Her eyes flutter shut as tears threaten; beautiful, haunting, music fills the ballroom and she finds herself dropping heavily into a chair randomly left to the side of the bandstand.

For a long while she just sits, listens to every chord, lets them play her heartstrings in a way that's both painful and soothing, breathing deep and reminding herself over and over that Henry ... her dear, sweet, little prince ... would not want her to be hurting in the way she is. She is so lost in thoughts of sorrow and loss, of redemption and the possibility of being reborn, that when she finally opens her eyes and is met with the sight of Robin Hood standing in front of her, she very, nearly, jumps out of her skin.

The expression he wears is nothing but concern, mixed with a hint of curiosity, but he doesn't utter a word as she regains her composure and pulls her posture back up to sit stiffly. "What do you want?" She asks, wanting her voice to convey its usual disdain, but instead it just sounds ... _tired_. She _feels tired_.

His silence continues, and rather than reply, the thief before her simply holds out his hand. For a split second her eyes leave his to meet the rough skin on his upturned palm, oddly inviting in the dim, flickering lights of slowly dying candles. The music changes as Regina reaches up with her eyes, and then with her hand, sliding her fingers through his and letting him guide her up to stand. She's pretty sure in that moment he's looking right into her soul, because when he steps closer and slowly eases his arm around her waist, her heart flutters in a way it hasn't in _years_.

It's a little awkward to being with, swaying to the music in the arms of someone she's pretty sure she hates, but who's touch seems to make her body melt and her knees shake. Regina cautiously places the hand he isn't holding on his shoulder, all the while letting her eyes flit between his and the fingers that she lets ghost over the fabric of his hood, questioning whether this is okay, whether this is what he means, to dance with the Evil Queen in the midst of a cold, starless twilight. She needn't have worried though, needn't have been nervous, because the second he sees the insecurity in her face, her body is pressed flush against his own, his palm splaying over the bottom of her back, fingers just out of reach of her silky, soft curls. She can't help but push her heart against his chest and get lost in the overwhelming ... _warmth_ ... that courses through her body as she moves against him. Their temples meet as their eyes loose sight of each other, and the Queen finds her lids dropping shut and her senses breathing in the scent of the thief now swaying in her arms. It should be alien, should be foreign and uncomfortable, but somehow the way his strong arms hold her against his body makes her feel nothing but content ... like she's felt this way a thousand times before, like she fits inside his embrace as though they've been made for only that purpose; to be locked, snuggly, forever in this exact position, getting lost in one another and listening to music that consumes her senses.

"I like this music," he says into her ear, voice a deep whisper that sets her skin on fire. She almost visibly shudders, but as the hairs on her body rise with the velvet smoothness of his tone, his breath still floating through her hair, she manages to catch her bodies involuntary impulses before he notices the effect he's having on her. "What melody is this?"

She clears her throat and replies, "It's not from this world." A sadness settles on her heart as she thinks of the world she left behind, the world she longed to go to all those years ago, still longs to go to now, the world that brought her the very best thing in her life. Her voice is low, quiet, and lacks the punch it usually delivers when making itself known. She feels him nod his head.

"It's nice. I've never really been one for the giddiness of folk music at royal balls," he tells her. She chooses that moment to pull her head back, staring into his eyes as her brow cocks and a skeptical smirk snakes across her face.

"You've found yourself in more than this one royal ball? How? You're a criminal." Her words don't bite the way they should, she sounds more genuine in her teases than she ever has before. They don't stop dancing - if that's what you can call it ... Regina thinks really it's more just moving back and forth on the spot - but it eases the ache in her heart, and she finds, much to her own astonishment, that she likes the way it makes her feel very much. She likes the way _he _makes her feel, very much.

A dirty grin springs onto his face, lighting up his eyes and deepening the lines in his face. He is incredibly hansom when he smiles, she thinks, tracing the details of his face with her eyes and longing to run her hands along his stubbled jaw. "Yes well ... I wasn't always a wanted man."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise, and he chuckles before pulling her back towards him, and a comfortable silence settles on their ears.

She listens the tune, wishing she could hear the words that are meant to lie over the top of the track as they dance, alone, like lovers who may be caught in the night and spend the rest of their days apart.

"Why are you dancing with me, Robin?" It's the first time she's ever used his actual name, and the expression that flits across his face tells her he's notice that too. She wonders, briefly, why she doesn't use it more. It tastes nice on her tongue, and she finds now she wants to say it again.

"Because you are the Queen. You hosted this ball, and you didn't get to dance tonight," he replies with a shrug, but his voice gives him away. The fact no one has asked her to dance has clearly bothered him.

"How would you know a thing like that? Watching me, were you?" She teases, but his reply catches her off guard.

"I'm always watching you."

She's overwhelmed by the gesture, the thought, and this time, lets her forehead rest against his, feels her fingers curl into his shoulder, gripping him tightly as he pulls their entwined hands to sit snuggly between their hearts.

The music gets bigger, louder, fills the room with life and love as they move together as one. Regina's hand leaves his shoulder, arm moving to wrap around the back of his neck, and she rakes her fingernails over the scalp at the base of his skull. His breathing deepens at her touch, and she feels an old, familiar heat in the very pit of her stomach as his arm presses her closer against his body. He feels so ... _good_; so safe and unafraid, and a longing washes over her heart. Why on earth has she never given in to the pull she has for this man before?

She wants him, this thief, in every way possible. Wants to get lost in his eyes and his caresses, his hold and his scent. Wants to run her tongue over every inch of his skin, wants to watch him come apart in her hands. Wants to come apart in _his_. The temptation to flick her wrist and pull them through space, away from the ballroom and into her bedchambers is almost unbearable, but she cannot, will not, give in. How can she let herself feel? How can she allow her heart to take pleasure in his every move, when everyday it takes every fibre of her being just to _be_? The mess that would come with indulging her fantasies with this man would only lead to more stress that her heart just could not take.

Nevertheless, she wants him, desperately, and a soft whimper falls from her throat, betraying her steely exterior and giving Robin all the encouragement he needs to shimmy his forehead down her own, searching for her lips.

She can't let them meet, and drops her chin further down towards the floor.

And then brings it back up.

His lips press against hers so quickly she almost doesn't feel it, and her head drops again, but only for a second, only to give him enough time to remove his arm from her waist and cup her face in his hands. He pulls her gaze to meet his own. She sees the desire, dark and unrelenting, but the deep blue pools that bore into her are laced with something else too. He needs to see if she's okay, and Regina think if she spends the rest of eternity in this mans arms, she will *always* be okay.

They kiss in the middle of the ballroom; it's frenzied and passionate, an outpour of everything either of them has ever felt. It makes her aware of every nerve in her body, and as her tongue whirls around his, moonlight dancing on their skin in flecks from the stain glass windows that surround the room. The candles have burnt out long ago, and as the music makes her body move against his, Regina can't help but lose herself in the thief; body and soul, heart and mind.

It won't last. When the sun begins to rise and the sky turns its colour, she will stop their dalliance. This, whatever it is, belongs in the dead of night with music pressing so loudly into her mind she can think of nothing but the way his hands run over her body. She will never say it out loud, just how grateful she is for his presence on this night. The night that should have had her tossing and turning with sorrow and nightmares has her body writhing for completely different reasons.

She will never look at this bandstand in the same way again.

But then again, maybe she will enjoy a royal ball from now on.

* * *

_A/N: The song that inspired this one-shot, that I hear when Regina plays the music, is 'Lay Me Down' - Sam Smith_

_I have a few prompts to get done, as well as some other ideas of my own, but rest assure, the one-shots will continue. If anyone has anything they'd like me to write, throw it my way and I'll see what I can do. _


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